


Tying the Knot

by BabyBeBop



Category: Looking (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Love, M/M, Post Movie, Romance, Sex, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabyBeBop/pseuds/BabyBeBop
Summary: Patrick and Richie get married.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the same universe as all of my other Looking fanfics, so you should probably read those too, if you haven't already.  
> Apologies if any of my Spanish is incorrect. Please let me know if it is, so I can fix it.  
> You can follow me on tumblr [here](https://babybebopfanfic.tumblr.com/).

“Good morning,” Richie murmured against Patrick’s shoulder.

Patrick cracked open his eyes and then closed them again. The sun coming in from the window was too bright. He rolled over and buried his face in Richie’s chest.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Richie asked, stroking his hair. 

“What’s tomorrow?” Patrick lifted up his head, smiling innocently.

Richie chuckled, giving him a good morning kiss. “Tomorrow’s the day I make you mine forever.”

“Oh,” Patrick said sleepily, nuzzling his chest again. “I thought you did that a long time ago.”

Richie grinned. “Yeah…but we didn’t make it official yet.” He lifted up Patrick’s arm and slid out from underneath him.

Patrick grumbled, shifting so he could get out of bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m gonna make you coffee,” Richie explained, pulling on a pair of briefs.

“Oh, nice.” Patrick rolled over onto his belly and smushed his face into a pillow. “Will you still make me coffee when we’re married?” he asked, his voice muffled.

“Of course,” Richie promised.

“And a bagel would be good too,” Patrick added.

“Anything you want, Pato.” 

Patrick opened his eyes and smiled at him. “You’re going to make the best husband.”

Richie beamed. He called back over his shoulder, as he left the bedroom, “Get up and get dressed – I need to give you a haircut before the wedding.”

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair. He _was_ due for a trim – and he had about a million other wedding-related activities to get to that day. He slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position, looking around the room. 

“Two days,” he said quietly, to himself.

\--

“Ah, there’s our soon-to-be groom,” Dom said, sliding over so Patrick could sit next to him in the booth. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Patrick said, flustered. “I had to pick up our suits at the dry cleaners and then my Mom called…”

“How’s Dana handling the small wedding thing?” Agustín asked. “Is she mad that she didn’t get an invite?”

Patrick scanned the menu, deciding to order the sweet and sour chicken. “She’s a little bummed, but, to be honest, I think, deep down, she and my Dad are both probably really happy that they don’t have to foot the bill.”

The waitress came over and jotted down their orders before walking away.

“And how are _you_ handling everything?” Dom asked.

“Yeah, any pre-wedding jitters, yet?” Agustín smirked.

Patrick exhaled. “Actually, I think I’m doing pretty well. I’m not really nervous about the wedding itself, just with making sure everything goes off the way we want it to.”

Dom chuckled. “You’re planning a wedding with only two witnesses and an after party at a gay bar. What could possibly go wrong?”  
  
“Oh God,” Patrick shuddered. “Please don’t say ‘what could go wrong?’ That always leads to _something_ going wrong.”  
  
“Calm down, Paddy,” Agustín said. “My wedding went off without a hitch, yours will too.”  
  
Patrick reached into his bag, taking out a small notepad. He flipped it open on the table in front of him. “This is everything we have to get done before tomorrow.”  
  
Dom peered over his shoulder. “That doesn’t look too bad.”  
  
Patrick started reading from the list. “One – Agustín gets certified.” He looked up at him. “You definitely did that, right?”  
  
“Of course,” Agustín said. “I got the certificate and I carry it with me everywhere. I’m thinking of having it framed.”  
  
“You’re hilarious,” Patrick said dryly. “I need to text Richie and remind him to give the dog a bath.”  
  
“Does she have a special wedding outfit?” Dom asked.  
  
The waitress came back and placed hot plates of Chinese food on the table in front of them.  
  
“Actually, she does,” Patrick said, digging into his chicken and fried rice.  
  
Agustín snatched the notepad away from him and started perusing the list. “Dom and I went shopping for party decorations earlier, so you can cross that one off.”  
  
“Oh, good,” Patrick said. “I still need to pick up a few floral arrangements though.”  
  
“Why don’t you go to Buds?” Dom suggested, biting into an egg roll. “It’s not far from here.”  
  
“Seriously?” Patrick asked. “That wouldn’t be weird for you?”  
  
Dom shook his head. “No way. That was such a long time ago. I’m completely over it.”  
  
“You can buy flowers later,” Agustín interjected. “There’s something else we need to do first.”  
  
“What’s that?” Patrick wondered.  
  
\--  
  
“So, I guess this is our tradition now,” Patrick huffed.  
  
Hiking up Indian Rock in July was possibly not the greatest idea they’d ever had. It was a very hot day and they were both sweating by the time they reached the top.  
  
“I bet the fireworks would look amazing from up here.” Agustín said, peeling off his shirt and sitting down.  
  
“Yeah,” Patrick agreed. “I don’t think I’d want to hike up here twice in one weekend though.”  
  
“It’s kind of an ironic choice,” Agustín mused, “getting married on Independence Day.”  
  
Patrick shrugged. “I think it’s a great idea – every year, the whole city will be celebrating on our anniversary. How cool is that?”  
  
Agustín took a drink from a bottle of water. “Sure. The drunk, naked guys stumbling around the Castro in Uncle Sam hats will make the day extra special.”  
  
“Shut up,” Patrick laughed, bumping his shoulder. “It’s going to be so fucking romantic. Just wait.”  
  
Agustín quieted down, staring at the view in front of them. “God, I can’t believe we’re _both_ going to be married. How weird is that?”  
  
“Yeah,” Patrick smiled. “If you had told me, even just a few years ago, that this would be happening, I would have said ‘You’re crazy.’”  
  
“You’re happy though, right?” Agustín asked, studying him. “I mean, aside from the list making, you actually seem pretty calm about this whole thing.”  
  
“I am,” Patrick admitted. “I feel really good. I think, after everything we’ve been through over the last nine months, this part isn’t so scary.”  
  
“Yeah. Of course.”  
  
“We’re just so incredibly lucky that we even get to do this.” Patrick furrowed his brow. Richie’s cancer had put everything into perspective – and it had accelerated things a little bit too. Getting married was much higher on the list of priorities than it had been.  
  
Agustín grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “And you found a best friend that you want to fuck.”  
  
“Exactly,” Patrick laughed, taking a sip of water. “I think Richie’s always been that. It just freaked me out so much in the beginning.”  
  
“Yeah, I remember,” Agustín said. “And I only made it worse.”  
  
“Ugh, no,” Patrick grimaced. “Don’t feel bad about that, please. I didn’t need any help fucking things up with Richie. I did plenty of that on my own.”  
  
“Uh huh,” Agustín agreed. “Like when you laughed at his dick. Or when you went off on him for bringing weed to your sister’s wedding.”  
  
“I know, I know,” Patrick groaned, holding up his hands. “I don’t need the recap. I lived it.”  
  
“Richie’s very forgiving,” Agustín pointed out.  
  
“He is,” Patrick said, taking a swig of water. “He’s also sweet and kind and funny and _really_ good in bed. Not that I’m trying to brag or anything.”  
  
Agustín laughed.  
  
“And, you know what?” Patrick continued. “I’m actually glad that we went through all of that before. It made me grow up – and now I can be married to Richie and really appreciate what we have together.”  
  
“Yeah, I get that,” Agustín said. “I still feel bad about what I did to Frank, but I don’t know where I’d be now if it hadn’t happened - definitely not married to Eddie.”  
  
“It all worked out,” Patrick said, wiping sweat from his brow.  
  
Agustín stood up abruptly. “We’ve gotta go, Paddy. I’m melting.”  
  
“Yeah, me too.” Patrick picked up his bottled water and started hiking down with him. “I wonder how long it will be before we bring Dom up here?” he wondered.  
  
“Never,” Agustín scoffed. “He’ll be a bachelor forever.”  
  
“But he’s really into Michael though,” Patrick pointed out.  
  
“Not enough to get married,” Agustín said skeptically.  
  
“Maybe he’ll be like George Clooney,” Patrick speculated. “No one thought he’d get married and have kids. Now look at him.”  
  
“Don’t make me think about George Clooney when I’m already overheated,” Agustín grumbled.  
  
Patrick chuckled. “Ok, so why don’t we talk about what you’re going to say at my wedding tomorrow? You’ve already written something, right?”  
  
Agustín looked down guiltily. “Not quite. I’m working on it.”  
  
Patrick had a feeling that meant he would be winging it. He couldn’t give him a hard time about it though, since he’d barely made a dent in writing his vows. “Hopefully, inspiration will strike soon – for both of us.”  
  
\--  
  
Patrick walked into Buds and glanced around. There were flower arrangements everywhere. He wasn’t sure how he would make a choice. They all were all so beautiful and fragrant.  
  
“Patrick!” Lynn greeted him happily, coming out of the back with a bouquet of Dahlias in his hand. “It’s good to see you again. What’s the occasion?”  
  
“Well, I’m actually getting married this weekend,” Patrick smiled.  
  
“Ah, how nice. I love a summer wedding,” Lynn said. He went behind the counter and placed the Dahlias in a vase. “Who’s the lucky groom – Kevin?”  
  
“Oh, God no,” Patrick barked out a laugh. “I’m marrying Richie.”  
  
Lynn nodded in understanding. “I see,” he grinned. “The barber won out.”  
  
“Yes, thankfully,” Patrick said.  
  
“What type of arrangement are you looking for?” Lynn asked. “Is it a big or small wedding?”  
  
“Small. Very small,” Patrick explained. “We’re getting married at Dom’s apartment. I just want a few bouquets to make it more festive.”  
  
There seemed to be a flicker of something in Lynn’s eyes when he mentioned Dom’s name. Or maybe he just imagined it. “Let me show you what’s in season,” he said, coming around from behind the counter.  
  
Patrick followed Lynn over to an arrangement of sunflowers, which he immediately vetoed. “Nah, a little too granola.”  
  
“We also have Delphiniums – blue and white together might be nice.”  
  
“Yeah, I like that,” Patrick nodded.  
  
“Or, irises always seem to be popular for summer weddings. There’s purple, white, or yellow.” Lynn grabbed a few to show him. “They have a delicate scent, not too overpowering.”  
  
Patrick took a whiff. “That does smell good.” He took out his phone. “I’m going to take some pictures and see what Richie thinks.”  
  
He sent the photos and Richie texted back that he liked the purple irises.  
  
_How about with white mixed in?_ Patrick asked.  
  
Richie responded quickly. _Sounds good._  
  
Patrick smiled when he read the message, his heart jumping a little in his chest. It was all pretty exciting and surreal. They were actually picking out flowers for their wedding. It was really happening.  
  
“Have we made our decision yet?” Lynn asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Patrick exhaled. “We made our decision.”  
  
\--  
  
“Are you sure they won’t wilt before tomorrow?” Patrick asked. His arms were full of the bouquets that Lynn had put together.  
  
“No, you should be fine,” Lynn said, while he rang up his order. “Just keep them in water, in a cool place.”  
  
“Ok, I’ll do that.” Patrick was planning to drop the flowers off at Dom’s before going back to Oakland.  
  
“I think that should take care of it.” Lynn handed him back his credit card and smiled at him warmly. “I hope you have a long, happy marriage and a wonderful life together.”  
  
“Thank you,” Patrick said, fingering the soft petals.  
  
“Come by any time,” Lynn said, busying himself with another arrangement that was nearby.  
  
Patrick balanced the flowers in one arm and pushed the door open with the other.  
  
“Oh, and, uh,” Lynn hesitated, looking up from his work. “Tell Dom I said hello.”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Patrick said, noticing the wistful look on his face. He felt a pang of sympathy for him, remembering the photo albums that they had seen at the Russian River. He knew what it was like now, to nurse the person you love through an illness. And there were no parties or celebrations for Lynn and his partner at the end of it. “I hope you have a really great holiday,” he told him, sincerely.  
  
“You too,” Lynn smiled. “Enjoy your wedding.”  
  
Patrick left Buds, the door swinging closed behind him. He took out his phone, balancing the bouquets in his arms at the same time, and called Richie’s number.  
  
“Hey,” Richie answered.  
  
“Hi, are you home?”  
  
“I will be in a few minutes,” Richie said. “Why?”  
  
Patrick grinned. “Because I just had a sudden urge to jump all over you.”  
  
Richie laughed.  
  
\--  
  
“Honey, I’m home,” Patrick muttered to himself, kicking off his shoes and putting down a grocery bag on the kitchen counter. Chiquita came over and he bent down to pet her head. “Are you ready for your Dads to get married?” he asked her.  
  
The dog wiggled her tail excitedly and licked his hand.  
  
Patrick stood up and walked toward the bedroom. He needed to change out of his sweaty clothes and get ready for the parties they were going to that night. He paused when he walked past the bathroom doorway.  
  
Richie was staring at his reflection in the mirror, holding two fingers up to his throat. He quickly dropped his hand when he saw him.  
  
“I thought you were going to stop doing that so much,” Patrick said gently, putting his arms around him.  
  
“I am,” Richie promised. “I just want to be careful.”  
  
“It’s not coming back,” Patrick said quietly. He felt it, deep down. That part of their lives was over.  
  
Richie kissed his cheek and ruffled his freshly trimmed hair. “Did you get the flowers and everything?”  
  
“Yeah,” Patrick smiled. “And then I kind of splurged a little and got us a bottle of champagne.”  
  
“Oh, that’s cool.”  
  
“Growing up, I always thought there’d be a champagne toast at my wedding,” Patrick explained. “And, I never told anyone, but sometimes I imagined that I was marrying Mark-Paul Gosselaar.”  
  
Richie laughed. “Really? I was into him too.”  
  
“No way,” Patrick chuckled. “We were probably jerking off to the same Teen Beat posters.”  
  
Richie put his arms around Patrick’s waist and gave him a light kiss. “I got something for the wedding today too.”  
  
“You did? What is it?” Patrick asked.  
  
“Well, remember when I told you that I wanted to pick out the rings?” Richie reached into his pocket.  
  
“Oh my God,” Patrick gasped. “Let me see.”  
  
Richie held back, keeping them clutched in his hand. “I have a cousin who does metal work and I asked him if he’d make our rings for us.”  
  
“Really? That’s so sweet.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it,” Richie said, “and if you don’t like them, we still have time to go to a jewelry store.”  
  
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” Patrick scoffed. “I’m sure I’ll love them – just let me see.”  
  
Richie held his palm open to show him the two silver bands. He watched Patrick’s face, studying his reaction.  
  
“Oh wow,” Patrick’s jaw dropped. “They’re beautiful.”  
  
Richie grinned, relieved. “You like them?”  
  
“I _love_ them,” Patrick said, taking the rings out of his hand. Inside, both pieces were inscribed with R+P and the date of the wedding. “Oh my God, this is amazing.”  
  
Richie beamed. “I can’t wait to put it on your finger tomorrow.”  
  
“Me too,” Patrick said, kissing him.  
  
“Maybe you should try it on now,” Richie suggested. “I want to make sure it fits.”  
  
“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” Patrick slipped one of the bands over his ring finger. It fit perfectly, like it was meant to be there. He looked up at Richie and caught the loving, tearful expression on his face.  
  
Richie leaned in and kissed him. “I love you, Pato.”  
  
“I love you too,” Patrick said, brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. “What time does Ceci’s party start?”  
  
“Not until six,” Richie said.  
  
“Good,” Patrick breathed. “You’ll have time to fuck me before we go.”  
  
Richie grinned, pulling him in for a deeper kiss. Patrick grabbed his hand and led him out of the bathroom.  
  
\--  
  
They stumbled into the bedroom, making out and pulling off each other’s clothes.  
  
“Do you think it will be different when we’re married?” Patrick asked, kicking his jeans the rest of the way off.  
  
“Will what be?” Richie wondered, kissing his throat and his ear.  
  
“Fucking,” Patrick said. “Maybe having sex with your spouse feels different than having sex with your boyfriend.”  
  
Richie laughed, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. “Why would it?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Patrick shrugged, mouthing at Richie’s pecs. “I’m just curious to find out.”  
  
“Are you afraid we’re gonna get really hetero and only fuck in missionary?” Richie chuckled.  
  
“Maybe,” Patrick laughed. “And then we’ll have to buy a minivan and drink Schnapps.”  
  
Richie smirked, kissing him. “I won’t let that happen to us, Pato.”  
  
“Good,” Patrick smiled. “But just in case…” He shifted around in bed, settling beside Richie on his stomach.  
  
Richie moved behind him, out of his view.  
  
Patrick felt his lips press to his bare ass for a quick kiss. Then the cap opened on a bottle of lube. He gasped, clutching the pillow, and noticed that he had forgotten to take off his ring.  
  
\--  
  
The pre-wedding party in San Leandro was held in Ceci’s backyard. There was a long table full of food set out and pop music blaring from the stereo system.  
  
“Ah, I can’t believe you’re getting married!” Ceci squealed, holding her arms out to hug both of them. “Oh my God, I feel like I’m gonna cry,” she said, dabbing at her eye makeup.  
  
“Don’t cry yet,” Richie told her. “Save it for tomorrow.”  
  
Ceci glanced over her shoulder, to make sure no one was listening. She lowered her voice. “I bought a new dress for the wedding,” she confided, “and shoes.”  
  
They had decided to keep it under wraps that she was coming, so no one in Richie’s family would feel slighted.  
  
“I like what you did with your toenails,” Patrick said, glancing down at the fresh coat of red polish on Ceci’s feet.  
  
“Gracias,” Ceci beamed. “That was another little thing I did – I’ve gotta be muy bonita if I’m gonna be Maid of…”  
  
“Jackie!” Richie called out, interrupting her. He gave Ceci a warning look not to say anything.  
  
“Richie,” Jackie said, coming down from the back porch. She hugged him. “Aw, my little brother’s going to be married. I’m so happy for you.”  
  
“It’s nice to see you again,” Patrick told her.  
  
“You too,” Jackie said, giving him a quick hug. “It’s been so long.”  
  
“How’s your baby doing?” Patrick asked.  
  
“He’s grown so much,” Jackie said. “You wouldn’t recognize him.”  
  
“He’s fat,” Ceci confided. “He’s got chunky little arms and legs. We call him Gordito.”  
  
“He is not!” Jackie protested. “And that nickname is mean – I told you not to call him that anymore.”  
  
Patrick looked at Richie and smiled. They sat on the porch steps, sipping beers while they listened to his sister and cousin bicker.  
  
\--  
  
“Hey, Pato, c’mere,” Richie said, tugging his arm.  
  
Patrick was standing at the buffet, sampling the chips and dip. He swallowed and wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “What is it?”  
  
Richie led him over to where a couple of guys were sitting in lawn chairs, drinking beers. “Patrick, I want you to meet Santiago and André – we used to play in a punk band together, when we were kids.”  
  
Patrick’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, that’s awesome. You must have so many stories about Richie.”  
  
“Oh, we know all the dirt,” André grinned, taking a swig of beer. His hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and he had a complicated tattoo across his chest.  
  
“Yeah, we’ve met a lot of boyfriends – and a girlfriend,” Santiago said, scrubbing a hand over his buzzcut.  
  
Richie winced. “Like I said, we go _way_ back.” He sat down on a bench and Patrick perched beside him.  
  
“We’ve gotta get together and jam again sometime,” André said.  
  
“Yeah,” Santiago agreed enthusiastically. “You’ve gotta hear Richie play, Patrick. He’s so good.”  
  
“I know,” Patrick nodded, sipping his beer. “He’s played a little bit for me. I thought it was amazing.”  
  
Richie smiled, shrugging modestly. “Just a Maná song – when I was trying to win him over.”  
  
André and Santiago laughed.  
  
“Well, it worked,” Patrick grinned, nudging his shoulder. “You got me.”  
  
“Yeah, I did,” Richie said, putting an arm around him.  
  
“So, tell me about this girlfriend I’ve never heard about,” Patrick asked, turning back to his friends. “What happened there?”  
  
“Oh no, don’t,” Richie warned. “I don’t want to get into that.”  
  
“Angie,” Santiago said. “Angie De La…something. De La Rosa? De La Torre? I can’t remember.”  
  
“Her and Richie went out for a little while,” André added.  
  
Patrick eyed Richie curiously. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”  
  
Richie looked away, his gaze shifting to somewhere on the grass. “We were sixteen. I wasn’t good to her. I made her think we were something that we weren’t.”  
  
“Aw, don’t feel bad about it, man,” André said. “She got over it. I still see her around sometimes.”  
  
“Yeah, but still,” Richie lamented, taking a swig of beer. It was obviously a subject that he still wasn’t very comfortable talking about it.  
  
“I fingered a girl once,” Patrick blurted out, trying to shift the conversation away from Richie’s youthful mistakes.  
  
“Oh God,” Richie laughed.  
  
“I’m guessing it didn’t go very well,” Santiago assumed.  
  
“No, not really,” Patrick chuckled. “I never wanted to repeat the experience. Let’s just put it that way.”  
  
Richie grinned at him. “You know it doesn’t really count as fingering if you put it in and take it out three seconds later, right?”  
  
“Oh please,” Patrick guffawed, nudging his shoulder. “Like you’re an expert or something.”  
  
“I’ve never thought about trying it with a guy,” André claimed. “Not once.”  
  
“Really? Not even Ángel Pagán?” Santiago teased.  
  
Richie laughed.  
  
“Who’s Ángel Pagán?” Patrick whispered.  
  
“Giants,” Richie told him.  
  
“Oh.” Patrick had been known to fall asleep while Richie watched baseball. It wasn’t the most exciting sport and the games seemed to go on for a really long time.  
  
“Ok, yeah,” André admitted. “He _is_ a good looking guy – and if it would help him get out of left field, I’d do it for the team.”  
  
“I don’t think your ass is gonna help us get to the Series,” Santiago ribbed him.  
  
They went back and forth like that for a few minutes, giving each other shit. Across the yard, someone changed the music to a track by Rihanna.  
  
“How are you doing?” Richie asked Patrick quietly, his arm still around his shoulders.  
  
“I’m good,” Patrick smiled. “I like meeting your friends.” He was always interested in finding out more about this part of his life, but they rarely visited San Leandro, even now that they lived close by.  
  
“I can grab you another beer,” Richie offered.  
  
“Sure, I’m almost finished with this one.”  
  
Richie got up and Patrick watched him walk across the yard to the cooler. He was wearing his Giants cap and a black tank top that showed off the tattoos on his arms. They were getting married tomorrow, but he was still a bit of a mystery, in some ways.  
  
“Hey Patrick,” Santiago interrupted his thoughts. “Did Richie ever tell you about when we used to cut class?”  
  
“No, tell me,” Patrick said eagerly.  
  
“We’d smoke up behind the gym and then go get tacos,” Santiago continued.  
  
“Yeah and one time Richie almost got busted for graffitiing in the alley behind the taco place,” André added, laughing. “He ran so fast – and the cops weren’t even coming for him. They sped right past us.”  
  
“Oh wow, that’s amazing,” Patrick chuckled, trying to picture it in his head. His curiosity was piqued and he was dying to find out more. “What else did you guys do when you were kids? What was Richie like?”  
  
Santiago and André were happy to fill him in, sharing everything they remembered about Richie’s childhood and his punk rock, teenage rebellion.  
  
\--  
  
“You think Dad was happy when _I_ got married?” Elena asked. “He hated Javier. He thought he was a lazy pendejo.”  
  
“That’s not the same thing, Elena,” Richie said irritably.  
  
Patrick came up the porch steps, carrying a paper plate with two chili dogs on it.  
  
“I’m not trying to make you mad,” Elena said. “It’s your business if you don’t want to talk to him and you don’t want to invite your family to your wedding…”  
  
“Yeah, it _is_ my business,” Richie interrupted her.  
  
“But don’t you think maybe you could be overreacting just a tiny bit?” Elena suggested. “It’s not like he even said anything bad about you marrying Patrick…”  
  
“No,” Richie glared at her. “He didn’t say anything at all. He hasn’t said a word to me since I told him.”  
  
“Maybe he just needs time,” Elena suggested hopefully.  
  
Patrick waited for a lull in the conversation before walking over to them. He stood beside Richie, holding out the plate. “I brought you a chili dog,” he said.  
  
“Thanks, Pato.” Richie took one from him.  
  
“I’m gonna go find Javier,” Elena said. She took off down the steps, her shoes clicking and her ponytail swinging behind her.  
  
Richie leaned against the porch railing, eating his food and quietly fuming.  
  
“Remember the first time we ate hot dogs together?” Patrick asked, trying to get him to smile again.  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Richie nodded, taking another bite.  
  
They ate in silence, until Patrick couldn’t hold back anymore. “So why didn’t you ever tell me you were a graffiti artist?” he blurted out. “Or that you dated a girl?”  
  
“Oh shit,” Richie groaned. “What all did they tell you?”  
  
_"A lot,"_ Patrick announced smugly. “Tonight has been very educational.”  
  
“Well, I might have to kill them then,” Richie said dryly.  
  
Patrick finished off his chili dog, checking to make sure he hadn’t gotten any on his shirt. “Are you ready to leave yet? I think Dom and Agustín were planning something for tonight. We can probably still make it, if we catch BART.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Richie wiped his face with a napkin and took one more swig of beer.  
  
“Good. Because, to be honest,” Patrick lowered his voice conspiratorially, “this party isn’t quite gay enough for a gay wedding celebration. No offense to Ceci.”  
  
Richie laughed. “I won’t tell her you said that.”  
  
Patrick looked out over the yard. “There _are_ some pink balloons over there, so at least that’s something.”  
  
“I just hope she can keep her mouth shut about being Maid of Honor,” Richie said. “Elena’s already driving me crazy, trying to get me to talk to my Dad.”  
  
Patrick frowned, touching his arm. “Don’t let her get to you. She doesn’t know how hard you’ve tried with him.”  
  
“No, I won’t,” Richie shook his head. “I want to have a good time with you and celebrate our wedding. I don’t want anyone around who isn’t supportive.”  
  
Patrick smiled. “You know what I just realized? By this time tomorrow night, we’re going to be _married_.”  
  
“I know,” Richie grinned. “Are you ready?”  
  
“I’ve got a few butterflies,” Patrick admitted. “It feels a little like Christmas Eve – you know, with the anticipation and the build up. But I’m ready. I’m totally ready.”  
  
“Totally?” Richie smirked.  
  
“Yeah, I know,” Patrick sighed. “I _am_ a tiny bit nervous…but mostly just really happy.”  
  
Richie put an arm around him and gave him a quick kiss. “Me too, Pato.”  
  
\--  
  
“Hey, look who finally showed up!” Doris called out, when they walked into the club.  
  
“Sorry, we’re late,” Patrick apologized while he hugged everyone.  
  
“No problem,” Dom told him.  
  
“Yeah, it gave us time to talk trash about you behind your back,” Doris said, taking a sip of her margarita.  
  
“Oh really?” Patrick laughed.  
  
“We were reminiscing,” Agustín smirked, his arm around Eddie.  
  
“There’s a lot of that going on tonight,” Richie pointed out, giving Patrick a look.  
  
“I was just telling everyone about the night you guys met, on Muni,” Dom said, “and how it was my advice that brought you two together.”  
  
“I never knew you were a matchmaker,” Michael teased him.  
  
“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” Patrick said.  
  
“Let me refresh your memory then…” Dom offered.  
  
“Oh God,” Patrick braced himself. He was sure he had probably said a lot of stupid, judgmental things about Richie that he didn’t want dredged up.  
  
“You weren’t interested in him,” Dom said, “because he wasn’t your type and you thought he came on too strong.”  
  
“Yeah, I did,” Richie admitted, smiling at Patrick. “I couldn’t help myself.”  
  
Patrick squeezed his hand. “It’s not true that I wasn’t interested. I was _definitely_ into you…just a little reluctant.”  
  
Dom continued. “And then you got all depressed because you’d been on too many bad dates and I said…” he paused. “What _did_ I say, Paddy? It must have been something very wise.”  
  
Patrick sighed, cringing at the memory of his old, anxiety-ridden self. “You told me to stop caring what my mother would think.”  
  
Doris laughed.  
  
Agustín groaned. “I used to tell you that _all the time_ , Paddy, and you never listened to me.”  
  
“Well, that night, I did,” Patrick said. “I went to Esta Noche and I found Richie and…” he trailed off, not wanting to talk about what happened next. Their first date had been an epic disaster. It was amazing that there had ever been another one.  
  
“The rest of it is history,” Richie finished for him.  
  
“Yeah. Exactly.” Patrick smiled at him, feeling grateful that he had been willing to give him another chance…and then even more chances after that.  
  
“I’m going to get another drink,” Agustín said. “Now that you guys are here, we can _really_ start celebrating.”  
  
“Yeah, I think I’ll have a shot of tequila,” Patrick said.  
  
A collective groan went over the group.  
  
“What?” Patrick said defensively. “I’m only going to do one shot. I don’t want to be hungover on my wedding day.”  
  
“Famous last words,” Dom said.  
  
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Richie promised.  
  
“You better,” Agustín warned. “I’ve been in enough bathroom stalls with Paddy. That’s your job now.”  
  
“Yeah, I’ll try to keep my feet away from you,” Eddie told Patrick.  
  
Patrick laughed. “Seriously, you guys. I’ll be fine.”  
  
The bartender came over and filled a shot glass for him. He downed it quickly, lips puckering at the strong taste.  
  
“Oh my God, they’re playing Love Shack,” Doris said. “I fucking love 80s night.”  
  
“Remember when this song first came out?” Dom asked her. “We had just moved to San Francisco.”  
  
“Yeah, and you still had a mullet,” Doris said. “Actually, I think we both did.”  
  
Michael tugged on Dom’s arm. “Come on, dance with me - you too, Doris.”  
  
“Oh, alright.” Doris said, downing the last of her drink and walking away with them. “But if this was really an 80s party, there’d be a lot more coke and hairspray.”  
  
“If this was really an 80s party, we’d all be dead,” Patrick blurted out grimly, then immediately regretted it. “Ugh, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have said that.”  
  
“It’s true though,” Richie pointed out.  
  
“Yep, very true,” Eddie said.  
  
“But it’s _not_ the 80s,” Agustín declared. “It’s fucking 2018 and my best friend is getting married tomorrow.” He grabbed Patrick, hugging and kissing him furiously.  
  
Patrick laughed. “Is there anything you should warn us about getting married? Richie and I were wondering if it’s going to, like, change anything.”  
  
“ _I_ wasn’t,” Richie smiled, “you were.”  
  
“Nah, you guys will be fine,” Agustín said, taking a sip of his drink. “You’ve got an advantage on us – you’ve already been living together for two years.”  
  
“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled. “We didn’t find out about each other’s gross habits until _after_ the wedding.”  
  
“That’s how I wanted it,” Agustín smirked. “If you’d known that I leave hairballs in the shower, I might not have been able to lock it down.”  
  
“Oh, honey,” Eddie said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “It would’ve taken a lot more than hairballs to scare me off.”  
  
Agustín smiled at him, clearly smitten. “You wanna dance with me? I think I hear George Michael calling.”  
  
“Oh my God, yes. You know I can’t resist George,” Eddie said, grabbing his hand and leading him away.  
  
Patrick sighed, turning to Richie. “He does have a good point – at least we’ve had plenty of time to get to know each other.”  
  
“Yeah,” Richie grinned. “I already know you don’t like it when I turn the air conditioner up.”  
  
Patrick laughed. “That’s not true. I just don’t see why I should be shivering, under an extra blanket, in July.”  
  
Richie shrugged. “It’s comfortable to me.” They had been over it so many times, but they could never agree on the correct temperature of the apartment. If one was cold, the other was hot, and vice versa.  
  
“Maybe I’ll include that in my vows tomorrow,” Patrick said. “Love, honor, cherish, and leave the thermostat alone.”  
  
“You haven’t written your vows yet?” Richie asked.  
  
“Uh, well,” Patrick hedged. “I’m still working on it. How about you?”  
  
“I haven’t written it down, but I know what I’m going to say,” Richie told him.  
  
“Really?” Patrick smiled.  
  
“Yeah,” Richie grinned, putting his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “I’m just gonna talk about how much I love you and how happy I am that we’re together.”  
  
“Hmm, I like that,” Patrick said, giving him a kiss. “What else?”  
  
Richie laughed. “I’m not gonna tell you everything _now_. You have to wait until tomorrow.”  
  
“Ugh,” Patrick pouted. “You know I’m not good at being patient.”  
  
Richie smirked. “You like instant gratification.”  
  
“Yeah I do,” Patrick murmured, leaning in for another kiss. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the feeling of Richie’s mouth on his. His thumbs brushed over the rough stubble of his beard.  
  
Richie’s lips moved to Patrick’s throat, sucking hard enough to make him wonder if he would have a hickey in his wedding photos.  
  
The makeout session was hot and heady and pretty much perfect, except for their surroundings.  
  
“We’ve gotta stop,” Patrick sighed, opening his eyes and looking around. “Otherwise, you might have to give me a handjob in the bathroom.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Richie said.  
  
Patrick grimaced. “No, not really. The bathrooms here are kind of gross.”  
  
The music changed to a different song and the revved up dance floor slowed down.  
  
_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick  
  
And think of you  
_  
Patrick took Richie’s hand and gave him one more, quick kiss. “Dance with me?” he asked, touching his cheek.  
  
Richie smiled. “Yeah, Pato. I’ll dance with you.”  
  
Patrick led him to the crowded dance floor. They swayed together, their arms wrapped around each other. Richie’s lips brushed against Patrick’s cheek and his eyes fluttered closed.  
  
\--  
  
On the train, heading back to Oakland, Patrick slumped against Richie’s shoulder. He had stuck to his word about not getting too drunk – mostly. He was a _little_ wasted, but not disgustingly so. Mostly he was just sleepy.  
  
While he dozed, Richie checked his phone. “Hey, Pato,” he said softly.  
  
“Huh, what?” Patrick asked, lifting his head.  
  
“It’s after midnight,” Richie grinned. “It’s our wedding day.”  
  
Patrick smiled dopily, snuggling up against him. “I’m gonna be married to you,” he muttered. “My best friend that I wanna have sex with.”  
  
Richie chuckled. “Is that what I am?”  
  
“Hmhm,” Patrick mumbled before dozing off again.


	2. Chapter 2

They woke up the next morning, their arms and legs tangled together. Patrick felt so warm and peaceful that he didn’t want to move. He could feel Richie’s heart beating and his morning breath on his cheek. 

“This is it,” Richie said quietly. “The big day.”

“God, I know,” Patrick breathed. He couldn’t be happier, but there was also an undercurrent of nervous energy. They were taking a huge step in their relationship. It was only human to be a little freaked out. 

“I’m glad we decided to do it,” Richie said. “I think it will be good for us.”

“Me too.” Patrick rolled over onto his back. “It just kind of solidifies everything, you know? After this, we won’t just be the gay couple who lives upstairs -we’ll be the _married_ gay couple who lives upstairs.”

Richie laughed. “You want to do this for our neighbors? Is that it?”

“No,” Patrick giggled. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Richie smiled. 

Patrick fingered the gold chain around his neck, thinking. “Where do you keep your escapulario?” he asked. 

“It’s in a box on top of the dresser,” Richie said. “Why?” 

Patrick sat up in bed, pulling back the sheet. He went over and found the box of mementos, opening it and taking out the escapulario. Then he rummaged around in a drawer until he found his own. 

“You want to wear them today?” Richie asked.

“Yeah,” Patrick said, getting back into bed with him. “It’s for good luck, right? And we’ll need that, for our marriage.”

“Here, let me put yours on,” Richie smiled. “It’ll be good practice for when we do the rings later.”

Patrick grinned, letting him place it around his neck. Then he leaned in and kissed him. 

“I have an idea for something else we could do today, before the wedding,” Richie told him.

“Yeah, so do I,” Patrick said, his hands slipping under the sheet. 

“No, not that,” Richie chuckled, kissing him. “Something else.”

“Can you tell me about it later?” Patrick asked, climbing into his lap and straddling him. 

“Yeah,” Richie gasped when he wrapped a hand around his cock. “It can wait.”  
  
\--  
  
“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Patrick said. The Señora’s waiting area was pretty much exactly as he remembered it. There were tons of candles lit and the room smelled of sage and cedar. 

“Are you nervous?” Richie asked. 

“No,” Patrick shrugged. “That was the old me. New me is mostly just worried about getting done in time, so we can go over to Dom’s and start getting ready.”

“She should be out in a minute,” Richie said. “There usually isn’t a long wait.”

“That’s good.” Patrick clutched a carton of eggs in his hands. They had brought four, so they could both have a session with her. 

Richie took out his phone and scrolled through his messages. “Fucking hell,” he sighed.

“What is it?” Patrick asked.

“Ceci must have blabbed,” Richie said. “I’ve got, like, fifteen messages from my sisters.”

“Oh shit.”

“They’re _really_ pissed,” Richie told him, while he read the messages. “This is exactly what I _didn’t_ want to happen. I just wanted to avoid all the drama.”

“I know. I get it,” Patrick said, rubbing his arm. 

A young woman came out of the room with the Señora. They spoke to each other in Spanish and then she left.

“Bienvenido de nuevo, Richie,” _(Welcome back, Richie)_ the Señora greeted him. 

Richie stood up. “Hola, gusto en verte nuevamente,” _(Hi, nice to see you again)_ he said. “Este es Patrick, mi prometido.” _(This is Patrick, my fiancé)_

“Oh, Patrick,” she nodded at him in familiarity. 

“Hola, buenas tardes,” Patrick said. His Spanish had improved since the last time they were there, but he was nowhere near fluent yet. He was slowly building his vocabulary, with Richie’s help. “Me gusta tu vestido,” _(I like your dress)_ he added, proudly.

“Gracias,” the Señora smiled at him.

“Solo habla un poco de español. Tendré que traducer,” _(He only speaks a little Spanish. I’ll have to translate)_ Richie explained.

“Muy bien entonces, ven conmigo,” _(Very good then, come with me)_ the Señora beckoned.

Patrick gave Richie a questioning look. 

“It’s alright, Pato,” Richie said. “I told her I’d be translating for you.”

“Oh, ok,” Patrick said. He took a deep breath, holding onto Richie’s arm while they walked into the room. 

\--

Patrick bit his lip, trying not to giggle while the Señora rubbed his face and body with eggs. It was an involuntarily reflex. He couldn’t help that he was a little ticklish. 

Richie was sitting nearby, watching him. 

“Relajarse,” the Señora murmured. 

“She needs you to relax, Pato,” Richie translated.

“I know. I’m trying,” Patrick said. “It just feels a little weird.”

The Señora moved down to his legs and feet.

Patrick tried to mentally count to ten and focus on his breathing. He didn’t want Richie to feel like he wasn’t taking this seriously. Obviously, this woman knew what she was doing, since she had predicted Richie’s cancer. But that actually made it more nerve wracking, since that meant that whatever she predicted today had a strong chance of coming true.

“Tantas bloqueos,” _(So many blockages)_ the Señora said. “Es bueno que me lo trajiste. Que desastre.” _(It’s good that you brought him to me. What a mess)._

Richie smiled.

“What is it?” Patrick asked. He was fairly certain he recognized the word for disaster.

“She’s just cleansing your energy,” Richie explained. “The eggs draw out anything bad that’s blocked inside you.”

The Señora finally finished rubbing him down and took the eggs over to a bowl of water that was sitting on a table nearby. 

“Can I sit up?” Patrick asked.

Richie nodded and handed him his clothes. 

The Señora cracked the eggs into the bowl, muttering to herself. “Tienes muchos miedos,” _(You have many fears)_ she said. “Necesitas confiar en ti mismo.” _(You need to trust in yourself)_

Patrick pulled on his shirt and looked over at Richie, his eyebrows raised. 

“She said you’re afraid, Pato, and you need to trust yourself.”

“Oh,” Patrick nodded. He lowered his voice, whispering to Richie. “Can I ask her a question?”

“Yeah,” Richie said. “What do you want to know?”

“Um,” Patrick gulped. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was comfortable knowing, and what he’d rather be in the dark about. “Ask her what it’s going to be like, when we’re married. Will we be happy?”

“Are you worried about that?” Richie asked.

“No,” Patrick told him. “I just want to know what she says.”

The Señora had taken out her deck of cards and was spreading them out on the table in front of her.

“Quiere saber sobre nuestro matrimonio,” _(He wants to know about our marriage)_ Richie said to her. “¿Seremos felices juntos?” _(Will we be happy together?)_

“Ah, sí. Muchos años felices. Hermosos hijos y nietos. Pero usted necesita ser honesto y confiar en sí mismos y entre sí.” _(Ah yes. Many happy years. Beautiful children and grandchildren. But you need to be honest and trust in yourselves and each other)._

Richie began to translate for Patrick. “Many happy years. Children and grandchildren…”

“Grandchildren?” Patrick gaped at him. He felt way too young to be thinking about that.

“Y recuerda de lo que hablamos la última vez, Richie,” _(And remember what we talked about last time, Richie)._ the Señora interrupted them. “No dejes que las diferencias en las finanzas creen obstáculos. Lo que uno siente por el otro es lo más importante.” _(Don't let the differences in finances create obstacles. What you feel for each other is most important)._

“What was that?” Patrick asked.

Richie shrugged, looking away. “It’s nothing.”

“That was a lot of words for nothing,” Patrick pointed out. He felt a little paranoid, wondering what he wasn’t saying.

“Dile a Patrick que necesita llegar a su hermana,” _(Tell Patrick he needs to reach out to his sister)_ the Señora warned. “Ella se está ahogando. Esté allí para ella. Un día ella le dará un regalo maravilloso.” _(She is drowning. Be there for her. One day she will give you a wonderful gift)._

Richie translated quickly.

Patrick was baffled. “Why would Megan need my help?”

“It could be something that’s coming up for her,” Richie suggested. “Maybe you should call her.”

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed, feeling uneasy. “I think I will.”

The Señora continued reading the cards, with Richie translating. When she was finished, Patrick stepped out into the waiting area, so Richie could have his time with her. He took out his phone and looked up Megan’s number in his contacts.

\--  
  
“I don’t think she meant it literally, Mom,” Patrick said, exasperated. “Please don’t panic.” 

“A psychic tells you that your sister is drowning and I’m _not_ supposed to take it seriously?” Dana was practically shrieking.

Patrick wondered why he’d thought it would be a good idea to tell her about this. He had only called her after he was unable to reach his sister. “I think she just meant that Megan’s going through a hard time and I’m supposed to talk to her.”

“Oh,” Dana quieted down. “Well, you know, with her and Gus…it’s been pretty rocky.”

“What about her and Gus?” Patrick asked.

“They’ve been separated for months,” Dana said matter of factly. “Didn’t you know?”

“No, I had no idea,” Patrick was stunned. “What happened? I thought they were really happy together.”

“They were, in the beginning,” Dana explained. “Then Gus started traveling more for work. He was away so much…and then, well, Megan was spending a lot of time with her personal trainer and…”

“Oh God. She had sex with her trainer, didn’t she?” Patrick’s jaw dropped. 

“She was lonely, Patrick.”

“After all the shit she gave me about Kevin?!” Patrick realized that his voice was getting louder and he tried to take it down a notch. “What the fuck is wrong with this family?”

“Honey, the affair was only part of it,” Dana said morosely. “I’m afraid Megan’s fallen back into her old patterns. It’s a coping mechanism, you know. She needs to feel like she has some control.”

Patrick frowned. “Do you mean the eating disorder?” Megan had struggled with anorexia in high school, but that was such a long time ago. He thought it was behind her. 

“She’s _so_ thin,” Dana sighed. “I wish there was something we could do, but she’s not a teenager anymore. I can’t check her into treatment.”

Patrick felt guilty that he hadn’t kept in touch with his sister. “I should have tried to call her sooner. I had no idea.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you only communicate through Facebook and Snapchat.”

“I don’t have Snapchat,” Patrick said defensively. “Face Swap freaks me out too much.”

Richie came out of the room, with the Señora. He took out his wallet and handed her his card.

Patrick nodded at him. “I’m gonna have to go, Mom. We need to get ready for the wedding.”

“Oh, I wish I could be there,” Dana said regretfully. “I understand that you need to do it your way, but…”

“I know, Mom,” Patrick had been over this with her before. 

“ _Please_ take lots of pictures and videos,” Dana pleaded. “Have you hired a professional photographer?”

“Agustín is actually a really good photographer,” Patrick explained. “He’ll be taking care of everything.”

Dana clucked her tongue at that and sighed heavily. “Well then, I guess the next time I talk to you, you’ll be married.”

“Yeah, I will.” Patrick gestured at Richie that he was trying to wrap it up. 

“I wish you all the best,” Dana said, her voice thick, “For both of you. Marriage isn’t easy, Patrick, and there will be bumps along the way, but if you love each other enough, you’ll get through it.”

“I know,” Patrick told her, his eyes welling up. 

“You’ve certainly been through plenty already,” Dana said. 

“Yeah, we have,” Patrick agreed. “But the best is yet to come, right?” 

Richie looked over at him and smiled. Patrick reached out and grabbed his hand. The Señora had said that they would have many happy years and he hoped with everything in him that it was true.

\--

They pushed open the door and stepped outside, into the hot, summer afternoon. 

“I think this might be a good time to run off and get married,” Richie grinned, holding his hand while they walked.

Patrick played along, pretending to think it over. “Hmm, it might,” he said. “Or we could go get some Fro Yo.”

Richie laughed. “Ok. First, we’ll get some pre-wedding Fro Yo.”

“With extra sprinkles,” Patrick added. “It’s a special day. We have to go all in on the toppings.” After the chat with his mother, he desperately needed to eat his feelings.

“Did you find out what’s going on with your sister?” Richie asked.

“Um, yeah,” Patrick said. “It turns out her marriage is breaking up.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Patrick frowned. “It’s pretty depressing. She’s been with Gus for a really long time.”

“That’s too bad,” Richie said. “I guess people just grow apart sometimes.”

They stepped off the curb, dashing across the street.

“How’d your chat with the Señora go?” Patrick asked. “Was it helpful?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Richie enthused. “She said she doesn’t see anything bad coming up for me, healthwise, so I’m feeling a lot better about it.”

“That’s awesome,” Patrick beamed, putting a hand on his shoulder. He knew Richie worried so much about the cancer returning. Hopefully this would provide some relief. 

“She gave me a thing of herbs,” Richie said, reaching into his pocket and taking them out. “I’m supposed to burn them before I go to bed at night.”

Patrick took a whiff of the pouch and made a face. “Oh, please no. Not in our apartment.”

Richie laughed. “But it’s supposed to help me stay healthy.”

“I know,” Patrick groaned. “But can’t you get around it and burn them outside or something?”

“I don’t think it’ll work that way,” Richie told him.

“Oh well,” Patrick said reluctantly, resigning himself to it. “If it keeps you healthy…”

Richie opened the door to the Fro Yo place. “Maybe if we burn something else at the same time, you won’t notice it so much.”

Patrick laughed. “There isn’t enough pot in California to get me to ignore that.”

They took their place in line. While they waited, Richie put an arm around Patrick’s waist and he leaned against him. “Strawberry sounds good.”

“Yeah, it does.”

\--

“Oh my God, you guys. This looks amazing,” Patrick gushed.

Dom’s outdoor patio had been decorated with streamers and Chinese lanterns. The flowers that Patrick had picked out at Buds were arranged in vases. 

“You and Richie deserve a beautiful wedding,” Dom said, coming over and hugging him.

Patrick returned the hug, holding on to him for a long time. He was so glad his friends were going to be here, supporting them. 

“Where’s Richie?” Agustín asked. 

“He ditched me at the altar,” Patrick joked. “No, I’m kidding. He’s in the bedroom, changing into his suit.”

“I can’t believe our little Paddy is getting married,” Dom said to Agustín, his arm still around Patrick’s shoulders.

“I know. I feel like such a proud parent,” Agustín grinned. “One day, I’m taking him to buy his first enema and the next day he’s walking down the aisle.”

“They grow up so fast,” Dom sniffed.

“Ok, enough,” Patrick laughed, rolling his eyes. “Seriously though, I’m really happy that you guys are going to be here for this. I never really thought I’d get married, but I knew that if I did, I’d definitely want you with me.”

Agustín hugged and kissed him. “Congratulations, Paddy.”

“Can I get in on this?” Dom asked, putting his arms around both of them to join the huddle. 

“Sure,” Patrick said, tearing up while his friends enveloped him in a warm embrace.

\--

“What the fuck, Ceci?” Richie confronted her when she arrived at Dom’s apartment. 

“I didn’t tell them anything!” Ceci claimed, not even needing to ask what he was upset about. “All I said was that I was going to be in the city tomorrow – and that I bought a new dress. They figured it out on their own.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything,” Richie chastised her. “I knew you couldn’t keep it a secret.”

Patrick came into the room, buttoning his shirt. “Have you seen Chiquita?”

“She’s in the kitchen, Pato,” Richie said, continuing to give his cousin the stink eye. 

“Oh, good.” Patrick was anxious to find the dog and get her into her dress for the wedding, even though he himself wasn’t completely ready yet. 

Richie had already put on his suit and he looked like a million bucks. There was only one problem. 

“You forgot to shave,” Patrick blurted out. He had somehow failed to notice it earlier. 

“Uh yeah,” Richie said. “Did you want me to?”

“Of course I want you to.” Patrick was exasperated by his nonchalant attitude. “We’re going to be taking tons of pictures that we’ll be sending to our families and looking at for the rest of our lives. I just thought you’d be clean shaven.”

“Ok, ok,” Richie said soothingly. “Calm down.”

Ceci had been listening, wide eyed, to Patrick’s rant. “I’m sure Dom has a razor and shaving cream,” she suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” Patrick exhaled a sigh of relief. He grabbed Richie’s arm and guided him toward the bathroom. “Make sure to take off your shirt before you shave – I don’t want you to get anything on it.”

Ceci quietly left the room, giving them a moment alone.

Richie put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders to steady him. “What’s going on?” he asked. “You seem like you’re freaking out a little.”

“No,” Patrick brushed off his concerns. “I’m not freaking. I just really need you to get ready – and then _I_ need to get ready. I want everything to be perfect.”

“Ok,” Richie said skeptically. “But you can tell me if you need to talk or anything before the wedding.”

“I know,” Patrick said. He gave him a quick kiss and then nudged him away. “Go. Shave. I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes.”

Richie gave him a concerned look before reluctantly following orders.

\--

“How’s everything going in here?” Agustín said, tapping on the bedroom door. 

Patrick was finishing getting dressed, pulling on his jacket. “I’m totally…” he started to lie, then cut himself off. “I’m actually, maybe, having a panic attack,” he admitted. “Just a tiny one.”

“Oh, no.” Agustín closed the door behind himself. “What happened to calm Patrick, from yesterday?”

“He checked out and left the building,” Patrick grimaced, adjusting his tie. His hands were trembling. “It’s just…this is _a lot_ …and I kind of feel like I can’t breathe right now.”

“Ok, sit down,” Agustín said, leading him over to the bed. “Do some deep breathing and…and think about Sigourney Weaver.”

“What?” Patrick was confused.

“Before my wedding, you told me something about Sigourney Weaver,” Agustín explained. “And I can’t remember what it was, but it was really helpful.”

“Oh,” Patrick only had a vague recollection of what he was talking about. He drew in a shaky breath. “I haven’t written my vows. It was my idea that we would write personal vows and now I can’t think of a fucking thing to say.”

“That’s alright, Paddy,” Agustín said, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m sure Richie won’t mind if you scrap the whole thing and go traditional.”

“And I just found out a few hours ago that my sister’s getting a divorce,” Patrick continued. 

“So what?” Agustín asked. “That’s got nothing to do with you and Richie.”

“What it proves,” Patrick explained, “is that my entire family is completely fucking terrible at marriage – and I’m next.”

“No,” Agustín shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what the rest of your family’s done. Look at me – my Dad hit my Mom and fucked around on her. Being married to Eddie is nothing like what I grew up with.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Pato?” Richie’s voice came through. “Are you doing ok?”

Agustín got up and went over, opening the door for him. He gestured at the bed, where Patrick was sitting with his head in his hands.

“Hey,” Richie said, walking over and sitting next to him. “What’s going on? Did you change your mind about getting married?”

“No,” Patrick answered honestly. “I think I just need a minute to regroup.”

Agustín slipped out, leaving them alone.

“It’s a big step,” Richie acknowledged, rubbing his arm. “It’s ok if you’re feeling stressed.”

“I just…” Patrick hesitated, trying to collect his thoughts. “I’ve made a mess of things so many times and I don’t ever want to do that again. I don’t want to let you down.”

Richie smiled at him softly. “Pato, that was such a long time ago. You’re different now – we both are.”

“It’s only been a few years,” Patrick pointed out. He looked around. “This is the room we were in the night of our first date, when I acted like a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, but we also came here after our second date,” Richie grinned. “And that one wasn’t so bad.”

Patrick thought back, remembering them stumbling drunkenly through the doorway, after meeting again at The Stud. He had sucked off Richie, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. “Why did you decide to give me another chance?” he wondered. 

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just had a good feeling about you.”

“I bet you regretted it a few times.”

“Yeah, maybe a few,” Richie admitted. “But I know you’re not that guy anymore, Pato.”

Patrick rolled his eyes, looking down at his hands. 

“Hey,” Richie said, lifting his chin up. “I _know_ you, ok? You took care of me when I got sick. You went home with me and met my crazy family – _twice_.”

Patrick managed to smile at that.

“We even talked about having kids together,” Richie continued. “And you never once backed down – from any of that.”

Patrick wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I guess that’s true.”

“Yeah, it is,” Richie insisted. “You’re so good to me Pato. You just don’t give yourself any credit.”

“I love you so much,” Patrick explained, his eyes welling up. “I just want you to have everything you deserve.”

Richie kissed his tear stained cheek and whispered in his ear. “I have faith in you that you’re going to be a great husband – I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”

Patrick hugged him, feeling safer in his arms. His anxiety was overwhelming. They wouldn’t be able to go through with the wedding unless he calmed down a little bit. “Oh,” he said, his eyes landing on Dom’s nightstand. He lifted his head from Richie’s shoulder. “You didn’t bring any weed, did you?”

“No, not this time,” Richie grinned. “Why? You want to get stoned for our wedding?”

Patrick pulled away from him, getting up and going over to the nightstand. He opened the drawer and rummaged around. “No, I don’t want to be completely baked, but it might help if I had a little.”

“Yeah, ok,” Richie nodded. “I’ll go ask Dom and Agustín if they have any.”

Patrick continued digging around in Dom’s drawers, not finding the vaporizer he was looking for. Luckily, Richie returned a few minutes later, holding it in his hand.

“Oh, thank you,” Patrick said, giving him a kiss. He took it from him and put it in his mouth, taking a few puffs.

They sat down on the edge of the bed, passing it back and forth. 

“Are you feeling better?” Richie asked, after a minute.

“Yeah, I think I am.” Patrick felt like he was starting to relax. His hands had stopped shaking, at least. “Sorry I freaked out on you.”

“No, it’s alright,” Richie said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Getting married can be really stressful. It’s a big commitment.”

Patrick took the vaporizer back from him and inhaled another puff. “Oh, hey,” he giggled, holding it up. “Something blue.”

Richie laughed. “And it’s borrowed.”

There was a knock at the door. “Are we having a wedding or what?” Dom called out. 

Richie smiled at Patrick. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Patrick grinned, squeezing his hand. “Let’s get married.”

Richie gave him a kiss and then they stood up. He adjusted Patrick’s jacket and tie. 

“You shaved,” Patrick said, touching his cheek. 

“Well yeah, I had to,” Richie smirked. “You were kind of going crazy over it.”

Patrick laughed. “I like you clean shaven. It’s very sexy.”

Agustín banged on the door. “ _Come on_ , you guys.”

“We’re coming!” Patrick yelled back. He frowned, straightening Richie’s tie. Their talk about first dates had made him remember something and now he couldn’t get it out of his mind. “Um, I don’t think we should get married here,” he confessed.

“Oh, ok.” Richie’s eyebrows raised and he looked at him questioningly. “Do you want to go to City Hall?”

“No,” Patrick answered. “Let’s just go get everyone and I’ll tell you.”

Richie nodded. 

They opened the bedroom door and found their friends waiting anxiously for them in the hallway. 

“Whew,” Ceci said, relieved. “I was starting to think you were going to call it off.”

“No, we’re still in,” Patrick smiled at Richie, holding his hand.

“Good, because Agustín and I busted our asses decorating outside,” Dom said. 

“Yeah, it looks great,” Agustín enthused. “And I’m ready to officiate. Eddie helped me rehearse and everything.”

Richie gave Patrick a look. “Uh, we might have a change of plans.”

“Yeah, I thought of a better idea,” Patrick said.

\--

“Mierda!” Ceci swore. “I’m getting sand in my new shoes.”

“You could just take them off,” Richie suggested.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna have to,” Ceci said. 

“I’ll hold your flowers,” Richie offered, taking the bouquet from her. He had made up with his cousin while they were crammed into the backseat of Dom’s car, heading to Ocean Beach. 

“Paddy, please do us a favor and explain why we had to drag our asses all the way out here.” Agustín squinted against the sun, surveying the beach. Luckily, it wasn’t too crowded.

Patrick smiled at Richie. “Because this is where we were the first time we talked about getting married.”

“Actually, it was more like over there,” Richie pointed out, gesturing to the road.

“That’s really sweet,” Dom said. “Of course, it would have been nicer if you’d changed your mind hours ago, but…”

Patrick ignored him, grasping Richie’s hand and threading their fingers together. He leaned against his shoulder and said quietly, “Let’s get married right here, for all the Richies and Patricks who came before us.”

“Yeah,” Richie said tearfully, kissing the side of his head. “That’s beautiful, Pato.”

Ceci took her bouquet back from him and smoothed out her blue sundress, which had gotten a little rumpled on the drive over. Dom was holding Chiquita, who was also wearing a new dress.

“Are we ready?” Agustín asked, taking a few note cards out of his pocket. 

Richie looked at Patrick for confirmation. He nodded, still clutching his hand tightly. 

“Ok, so before we start with the vows, I have a few things that I want to say,” Agustín began. 

“Oh God,” Patrick muttered under his breath.

Agustín shushed him. “First of all, I just wanted to tell you both that I’m so happy for you. Paddy, I love you and I was completely honored when you said you wanted me to marry you guys.”

“Officiate,” Patrick corrected him. “We’re not having a throuple.”

“Do _you_ want to give the speech?” Agustín scowled at him. 

“No, I’m sorry. Go on,” Patrick grinned. “You were doing fine.”

Agustín raised an eyebrow at him and then continued on. “I can’t think of a better person to marry Paddy than you, Richie. Since you two met, I’ve watched him evolve…you’re so much stronger and more settled than you used to be, Paddy, and I know a lot of that has to do with Richie. I’ve never seen you happier than since you’ve been with him.”

Patrick gave Richie a look and they smiled at each other. 

“You guys have a true partnership. You build each other up and take care of each other. I’m so excited for you that you’re starting this new phase of your lives together. And I could give you all kinds of advice, like ‘Never go to bed angry’ or ‘Always listen to each other’, but I don’t think you really need to hear that bullshit anyway.”

Richie chuckled. 

“So, instead I’m going to read a poem. It’s by Rumi and it’s called ‘This Marriage.’ This sums up everything that I wish for you guys, going forward.” Agustín took out his note cards and read aloud.

“May these vows and this marriage be blessed.  
May it be sweet milk,  
this marriage, like wine and halvah.  
May this marriage offer fruit and shade  
like the date palm.  
May this marriage be full of laughter,  
every day a day in paradise.  
May this marriage be a sign of compassion,  
a seal of happiness here and hereafter.  
May this marriage have a fair face and a good name,  
an omen as welcome  
as the moon in a clear blue sky.  
I am out of words to describe  
how spirit mingles in this marriage.”

Patrick was weeping by the time he finished. 

“I hope you have an absolute blast being married,” Agustín concluded. “May all your dreams come true and may you spend the rest of your lives in marital bliss, loving the ever loving fuck out of each other!”

The whole group laughed and cheered at that. Patrick gave Agustín a fierce hug. His speech had been so moving. He was sorry he’d doubted him. 

“Let’s get on with it and get you guys married,” Agustín told him. 

Patrick grabbed Richie’s hand and took a deep breath. 

“You ready, Pato?” Richie asked, searching his face for any signs of last minute panic. 

“Yeah, I am,” Patrick assured him. 

Richie kissed him lightly, their foreheads pressing together, and they held hands, taking a moment to calm each other.

\--

In the end, Patrick’s worries about writing his vows turned out to be unfounded. The minute he faced Richie and looked in his eyes, he knew exactly what he wanted to say. 

“The first time I saw you,” Patrick began, swallowing back a lump in his throat, “I remember my heart started beating really fast and my palms got sweaty…I definitely had butterflies. And I’m _still_ getting them. Sometimes I look at you and I’m like, _Oh my God_.”

Richie smiled. 

“I want to keep that feeling,” Patrick told him. “That excitement I feel about us being together. I’m so happy that I get to spend every day with you – and so grateful. After what we went through, with you getting sick, I don’t take any of it for granted. It made me want to love you harder and better than I ever had.”

Ceci sniffled, loudly, into a Kleenex.

Patrick had tears running down his cheeks and Richie reached over and wiped them away for him. “I know that I’m safe with you,” he continued, his voice breaking, “that you’ll always protect me and tell me the truth – especially when I really need to hear it. I love you and I trust you.”

“I love you too, Pato,” Richie whispered. 

“Psst,” Ceci whispered, handing Patrick a Kleenex. He accepted it gratefully. While he was wiping off his face, he nodded at Richie to take over.

“Pato, you asked me earlier why I decided to go on a second date with you and I kept thinking about it on the drive over here…”

Patrick grinned. “You were horny?” 

Richie laughed. “No…well, maybe a little.”

Everyone chuckled at that.

“Seriously though,” Richie said. “I think I could tell that you had such a good heart, even though we didn’t start off very well. It just felt right, being with you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I’m more in love with you than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

Patrick choked back a sob and Ceci handed him another tissue.

“I want to grow old with you and sit on the couch and watch The Goonies with you…”

Patrick smiled at him through his tears. 

“…and I want to wake up every morning with you beside me. You’re part of me, Pato, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” Richie reached over and wiped off his face again.

Patrick couldn’t resist leaning in and giving him a kiss.

“Um, we’re not quite to that part yet,” Agustín reminded them.

“I know,” Patrick smiled at Richie and stepped back.

“Who has the rings?” Agustín asked.

“I’ve got them right here,” Dom said, reaching into his pocket, while he held Chiquita with his other hand. 

“Ok, so you take this one,” Agustín explained, handing one of the rings to Patrick. He cleared his throat and checked his note cards before he began reading. “Do you take Richie to be your husband?” he asked. “To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish ‘til death do you part?”

“I do,” Patrick grinned giddily, before sliding the ring on Richie’s finger.

Agustín continued. “Richie, do you take Patrick to be your husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, to love and to cherish ‘til death do you part?”

Richie smiled at Patrick brilliantly, his eyes shining. “I do.” He put the ring on his finger and they held hands, waiting for the official pronouncement. 

“And now, I’m proud to announce,” Agustín declared loudly and grandly, “By the power vested in me by the internet and the state of California, I declare you husband and husband! You’re married!”

Dom and Ceci cheered loudly.

Patrick grabbed Richie and kissed him furiously, their arms around each other. “Mmm,” he murmured. “Love you so much.”

Richie hugged him back, kissing his mouth and his face. They were both teary and breathless. “We’re married,” he told him, grinning widely. 

“I _know_ ,” Patrick smiled back at him dreamily, his arms around his neck. He was so happy he felt like he was floating. Waves crashed on the shoreline and he held on to Richie, not wanting to let go.  
  
\--  
  
Agustín had brought his camera to the beach and he snapped away, taking plenty of photos.

“Ok, we need one where we look really serious,” Patrick directed. “I’ll stand here and Richie, you put your arm here.”

Richie followed orders, but he couldn’t resist giving him a funny look right before Agustín took the photo. 

Patrick laughed. “Why did you have to do that?” 

“Maybe I just wanted to see you cracking up,” Richie admitted. “You’re so cute.”

Patrick smirked at him, straightening his tie. 

“Are we going to try that one again?” Agustín asked. 

“Yeah, but Richie’s gonna be good this time,” Patrick said. “Remember – serious faces.”

“Uh huh,” Richie agreed. 

Agustín snapped the photo and it looked gorgeous, with the blue sky behind them, but they were both smiling again.

“You grabbed my ass,” Patrick giggled. 

“Did I?” Richie asked innocently. 

Patrick couldn’t be mad at him for even a second. He looked so incredibly handsome, standing on the beach in his wedding suit. Like an old school Latin movie star. 

The flash suddenly went off on Agustín’s camera. 

“What are you doing?” Patrick asked. “We weren’t posing yet.”

“I know. That’s why it looked good,” Agustín explained. “Candid shots are better, Paddy.”

Richie took him by surprise, kissing him suddenly. Patrick melted into it and the camera went off again.

\--

The water washed up and over Patrick’s feet. He was standing at the shoreline with Richie, holding hands. They had taken off their jackets after the photo session and rolled up the legs of their pants so they could wade in.

“It feels good,” Richie said. “Too bad it’s not safe to swim here.”

“I know, right?” Patrick dug his toes into the wet sand. “That would make an interesting story for the 6 o’clock news – married and then swept away by the riptide.”

“I think this was the best place to do it though,” Richie said, looking at the bands on their fingers. “I love that you thought of it.”

Patrick smiled at him. “You know, the first time we came here, I was already falling in love with you.”

Richie brushed his fingers over his cheek. “I was too, Pato.” He kissed him tenderly. “I fell so hard for you.”

They made out, with the sun warming them and the water lapping at their toes. Eventually, their friends started calling for them, from up the beach, and they reluctantly parted.

Patrick looked down at the sand under their feet and got an idea. He squatted down.

“What are you doing?” Richie asked. 

“Leaving something behind,” Patrick grinned. He used a piece of driftwood to draw their initials in the sand. _R.D. + P.M._

Richie helped him finish, putting a heart around it. “It looks good, Pato,” he said, stepping back to survey their work.

“I think so too,” Patrick agreed, putting an arm around him. 

\--

“I’m sorry that you guys did all of this for nothing,” Patrick said, looking up at the streamers and twinkly lights. They had gone back to Dom’s to change out of their suits before hitting the clubs. 

“It’s alright, Paddy.” Dom put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s your wedding – you’re allowed to change your mind.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “And I like the way we did it.”

“It was perfect,” Dom agreed. “Even _I_ got choked up – and I never cry at weddings.”

Patrick grinned. “Thank God for Ceci remembering to bring Kleenex.”

Dom laughed and gave him a hug. “Congratulations – you’re a married man now.”

“I am,” Patrick smiled at him affectionately. 

“Who wants a glass of champagne?” Ceci asked, coming from the kitchen with the bottle in her hand. 

Agustín followed behind her, holding five empty flutes. “And I’ve got something stronger, if anyone needs it later.”

“What, like, Ecstasy?” Ceci asked him. “I’ve got some Adderall in my purse.”

“Let’s just stick to champagne for now,” Patrick suggested. “I need to go find out what’s taking Richie so long.”

He walked through the apartment and stopped at Dom’s bedroom, cracking the door open. Richie was sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his suit, looking at his phone. 

“Hey,” Patrick said.

Richie looked up. “Oh, hey. Sorry… I was just checking my messages.”

“No, it’s ok,” Patrick sat down next to him. “Are your sisters giving you shit again?”

Richie shook his head. “No, they’ve calmed down, but…” He turned the phone toward him so he could see, “it’s my Dad.”

Patrick read the message. 

_Ricardo, I’m sorry we haven’t spoken recently. Our last conversation was upsetting to me. I didn’t intend to hurt your feelings but, as you know, my beliefs about marriage are very traditional. It’s a sacred union between a man and woman, brought together by God. I understand that you might want to have a home and family like the one you grew up in, but you seem to be confused and misguided in your choices. Do you really think this is what God spared your life for, Ricardo? So that you can disrespect him and…_

Richie took the phone away before Patrick could finish reading. “It goes on and on,” he told him grimly. “And it gets worse.”

“Wow,” Patrick stared at him in shock, frowning deeply. “I’m so sorry. I thought you guys had been getting closer.”

“Yeah, me too.” Richie rubbed his eyes, his jaw set firmly. “I tried really hard with him, but that’s it. I’m not going to do it anymore.”

“Absolutely,” Patrick agreed. He put a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Block his number, block his email – just block everything.”

“That fucking shithead,” Richie sighed. “Sending me that on my wedding day.”

“Did he know it was today?” Patrick wondered. That somehow made it even uglier, like he was actively trying to hurt them. 

“Probably,” Richie said. “My Mom knows.”

“God, that’s just horrible,” Patrick put his arms around Richie. “Your Dad’s an asshole and he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I’m completely finished with him,” Richie vowed. “I don’t care what he does or says. I’m never going to speak another word to him.”

“Yeah, I completely understand, if that’s what you want,” Patrick said, rubbing his back. He was heartbroken for him that it had turned out this way. 

Richie pulled away, wiping at his eyes and smoothing his hair. “I don’t want to spend any more time thinking about this,” he said decisively. “Not today.”

“Ok,” Patrick patted his leg.

“We just got married,” Richie said, standing up. He started unbuttoning his shirt. “We should be out getting drunk, celebrating, not worrying about what that homophobic asshole thinks of us.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Patrick agreed. “We can deal with all of that later.”

“Fuck him,” Richie muttered, taking off his shirt. He was still wearing the escapulario that Patrick had put around his neck that morning. “I won’t let him ruin this for us,” he said. “We’re going to have the best time tonight.”

Patrick smiled at him sympathetically. “Everyone’s waiting for us outside, with the champagne.”

Richie looked up from unzipping his pants. “That sounds like a good way to start.”

“Hey, c’mere,” Patrick stood up and reached out to him. 

“What?” Richie asked, sliding an arm around his waist. He was eyeing him like he knew pretty well what he wanted. It was kind of obvious, with him standing there in nothing but his briefs.

Patrick kissed him, longer and deeper than he had at the beach, with his tongue in his mouth and his hands in his hair. There was a point to it, beyond how hot he looked. He needed to bring Richie’s focus back to what really mattered.

“Mmm, Pato,” Richie finally broke the kiss, breathing raggedly. 

Patrick rubbed the warm, bare skin of his back and nosed his cheek. “Did that help?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Richie hugged him. “You always make me feel better.”

Patrick grinned. “I’m your husband – that’s what I’m here for.”

Richie chuckled. 

“You know I’m going to be using that word a lot, right?” Patrick giggled. “Husband, husband, husband – I’m kind of obsessed with it, actually.”

“I get that,” Richie laughed. “I feel the same way when I see that ring on your finger.”

“Oh, this one?” Patrick smirked, holding up his hand.

“Yeah, that one,” Richie smiled at him lovingly and took his hand, kissing his palm and his fingers.

\--

They finally made it out of the bedroom and back outside, where their friends were waiting with the unopened bottle of champagne.

“There you are,” Dom exclaimed. “We thought we’d lost you.”

Agustín had collapsed into a chair, his legs propped up in front of him. He looked them over suspiciously. “Tell the truth – were you guys fucking in there?”

“No!” Patrick guffawed. He glanced at Richie, to make sure he was ok. “We just had some stuff to talk about.”

“Yeah, but we’re good now,” Richie said. 

“¿Estás bien, primo?” Ceci asked, nudging him. “You better not be fighting already, not after that picture-perfect wedding.”

“Oh, no,” Richie shook his head. “It’s nothing like that.”

“We’re still happy newlyweds,” Patrick smiled, giving Richie’s hand a light squeeze.

“Well, thank fuckin’ God,” Agustín said, jumping up and grabbing the bottle of champagne, “Because it’s time to start celebrating.”

Dom handed glasses to everyone. “Be careful,” he warned Agustín, “or it’s going to spray everywhere.”

“I know how to do it,” Agustín claimed, just before he popped the cork. It _did_ bubble over a little bit, but not too much.

When everyone’s glasses were full, Dom offered the first toast. “To Richie and Paddy, may the next chapter of your lives be everything that you’re hoping for.”

“Cheers,” they all said in unison, clinking their glasses together.

\--

“There they are!” Doris called out, coming over with her drink in hand. “The newly married couple. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Doris,” Patrick said, hugging her. 

Richie gave her a hug too.

“How was the wedding?” Doris asked, turning to Dom. “Did Patrick cry a lot?”

“Hey…” Patrick laughed.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Dom nodded. 

“I figured it would be a nonstop sobfest,” Doris admitted. “Hopefully not as bad as my Dad’s funeral though.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Patrick said. “But it was very emotional.”

“Ugh, God. It was _beautiful_ ,” Ceci said. “The most romantic wedding I’ve ever been to.”

“And she’s been to a lot of weddings,” Richie added.

“Uh huh,” Ceci made a face. “Big, Catholic weddings where the ceremony goes on and on and on.”

“We kept it short and sweet,” Agustin grinned.

Eddie hugged him. “I’m so proud of you, my little officiant.” 

“Well, you know how I feel about marriage,” Doris said. “I pretty much think it’s a crock. But I’m happy for you guys anyway. If putting a ring on it was what you needed, then mazel!”

“You still have me, Dor,” Dom said. “I promise I’ll never make you come to my wedding.”

“Never say never,” Patrick smirked. 

“No!” Doris laughed. “I won’t let you drag Dom into your marital clique. We’re staying single ‘til we die.”

“That’s right,” Dom agreed.

Patrick sipped his drink, smiling at Richie over the rim of the glass. He was done with single life for good – and he couldn’t be happier about it. 

“Who wouldn’t want to get married, when you’ve got someone this hot?” Richie said, putting an arm around his shoulders.

Patrick laughed. “Me? Look at _you_.”

“Oh, you’re both hideous,” Doris sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s such a shame.”

Richie kissed Patrick’s cheek and nuzzled his throat while they finished off their drinks.

\---

Music thumped loudly in their ears and Patrick danced enthusiastically, shaking his ass to the beat. “Oh my God, I love this song,” he said, mouthing along to the words and waving his arms over his head.

Richie smiled, grinding up against him. “You wan’ another drink?” he slurred. They were both sweaty, drunk and a little out of breath. 

“Yeah,” Patrick said, wiping his brow. “And then I wanna dance some more and then I’m gonna take you home and…and do something dirty to you.”

Richie laughed. “Sounds good to me.”

He took his hand and led him over to the bar, where they ordered two beers. 

“Paddy!” Agustín called out, rushing over to them and tackling Patrick into a big hug. He was, not surprisingly, completely wasted. “Promise you won’t forget about me now that you’re married.”

“Of course I won’t,” Patrick assured him. “Why would I?”

Doris came up to the bar, behind Agustín. “Richie, your friend Emilio is so fucking hot. I mean, Malik’s here, so it’s not like I’m going to run off with him or anything, but holy shit.”

Richie chuckled. He had invited some of his longtime friends to the party and the only straight one had bonded with Doris. “He usually likes Latin women with big tits, so…”

“That rules me out,” Doris finished, grabbing another drink. “Malik will be relieved.”

“Where did Dom and Michael go?” Patrick asked, trying to see over the crowd.

“They were having a gropefest earlier, during that Britney song,” Eddie explained, putting an arm around Agustín. “I’d guess they’re probably having a romantic rendezvous in the bathroom right now.”

“Ugh,” Patrick made a face and took a swig of his drink. 

“Hey,” Agustín said, nudging him. “Eddie and I were gonna grab some food and then try to catch the fireworks at Aquatic Park. Are you guys up for that?”

Patrick looked at Richie to see how he felt about it. They had actually been talking about ducking out of the party and getting some time alone. “Uh, probably not.”

“Malik and I will go with you,” Doris told Agustín. “And I’ll go knock on some bathroom stalls and see if I can round up Dom.”

Patrick chuckled. He had a feeling she wasn’t joking about that.

Richie took his hand. “Let’s have one more dance before we go.”

Patrick smiled, suddenly feeling very sentimental. It was their wedding night and, in a few more hours, the special day would be over. They had to make the most of what was left of it. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s dance.”

Richie led him away, back into the crowd. Patrick relaxed in his arms, moving with the music. He felt elated and full of excitement about what their future was going to bring. 

Richie pulled him close and gave him a long, lingering kiss.

Patrick smiled at him brilliantly, unable to contain his exhilaration. “God, I can’t believe we really, actually did it,” he shouted over the music. “We’re _really_ married.”

“I know we are, Pato,” Richie grinned. 

“I feel like I’m the luckiest person on the entire fucking planet,” Patrick exclaimed. 

“Second luckiest,” Richie corrected him.

Patrick couldn’t hear what he’d said, so he rambled on. “It’s like, you’d think it might be scary that it’s so permanent, but I actually really like that. I don’t wanna undo it, ever.”

“I don’t either,” Richie said.

“It’s in writing now, that you’re always gonna be with me,” Patrick told him, slurring a little. “It’s jus’ pretty fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” Richie agreed, holding him tighter. “I’m so glad we got married.”

“Uh huh,” Patrick murmured, kissing his jaw and his ear.

“You ready to go?” Richie asked, his hand sliding down to squeeze his ass. 

“Hmm, after this song’s over,” Patrick mumbled against Richie’s mouth. 

Richie nipped at his lower lip and Patrick sighed, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

\--

“Oh my God, Richie, we have to stop here.” Patrick came to a sudden halt, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“You want dessert?” Richie asked, glancing at the shop window. It was a gourmet bakery, specializing in cakes and cupcakes.

“Yeah, well, we got married without a wedding cake,” Patrick explained. “We don’t have pictures of us shoving cake in each other’s faces.”

Richie laughed. “If you really need that…” 

“I completely, one-hundred percent need that,” Patrick giggled. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. 

“Hi, how can we help you?” the woman behind the counter asked. She was wearing an apron and a little hat.

Patrick stared at the wide array of cakes on display, behind the glass case. He was trying to find the one that most resembled a wedding cake. 

“We just got married,” Richie told the woman. “And we forgot the cake part.”

“Oh, how nice. Congratulations.”

“I think we should get the vanilla butter cream,” Patrick said, looking to Richie for approval. “Is that what you want?”

“Yeah, that’s fine, Pato.” 

Patrick went over to the register. “Can we have two slices of the vanilla butter cream?”

“Sure, that’ll just be a minute.” The woman behind the counter took out two slices for them and packaged it in a take-home box.

Richie started to take out his wallet.

“No, it’s ok,” Patrick said. “I’ve got this.”

“I can pay for it,” Richie insisted. “Let me do something nice for you.”

“Yeah, but…” Patrick started. The bakery was expensive and he knew Richie was still low on funds after being unable to work when he was sick. Not to mention the one hundred dollar charge he had put on his credit card when they visited the Señora.

“I’ll get it,” Richie said flatly, taking out the card and handing it over.

Patrick frowned at him, but decided not to push it. The income disparity between them was still a touchy area, even after all this time. It had been more pronounced recently, since Richie had been paying off the bills that had piled up during his illness.

The woman behind the counter ran Richie’s card and then handed over their order. “Congratulations on your wedding,” she said. “Please remember us for your next special event.”

“We will. Thank you,” Patrick said, sliding his hand together with Richie’s as they walked out of the bakery.

\--

“We should go by Dom’s and get Chiquita,” Richie said, when they were back outside.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick laughed. “Is it bad that I completely forgot about her?”

“We’ve had a lot on our minds today,” Richie pointed out.

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. He leaned against Richie’s shoulder. “I’m _so_ tired and part of me just wants to go home and get in bed – but the other part of me wants to stay awake so tonight doesn’t end.”

Richie smiled. “We could go dance some more.”

“Ugh, no,” Patrick didn’t have enough energy left for that.

“Or, I don’t know,” Richie shrugged. “We could get a room and fuck like newlyweds.”

Patrick grinned. That actually sounded perfect, but he didn’t want to admit it. Richie might insist on paying for it and he didn’t want to put him in that position.

“You’re into that,” Richie guessed, smirking.

“No,” Patrick lied. “Going home sounds fine to me.”

“Pato…” Richie needled him. He had an uncanny ability to see through his bullshit. It was a little unsettling, actually.

“Ok, yes,” Patrick sighed. “I’d love to check into a hotel and have a ridiculous amount of sex with you, but…but…”

“What?” Richie asked.

“We don’t have the money for it,” Patrick admitted painfully.

“No, _I_ don’t have the money for it,” Richie said stiffly. “That’s what you’re worried about.”

“I just…” Patrick hesitated. “I know you’re still paying off bills from when you got sick and I don’t want to make things worse for you…”

“I’m doing fine, Pato,” Richie asserted. “Yeah, money’s a little tight right now, but it’s getting better. I finally finished paying you back, right?”

“Yeah - even though you didn’t have to,” Patrick reminded him. “And, by the way, don’t think I’m not paying _you_ back for my visit with the Señora.” 

Richie gave him an incredulous look. “God, you drive me fucking crazy sometimes,” he muttered under his breath. 

“What?” Patrick’s jaw dropped. “Why?”

Richie glared at him and kept walking. “Let’s just drop it.”

“No way,” Patrick was genuinely confused about what he had done. “I want to know what you meant by that.”

“Pato,” Richie ground out his name in frustration. He finally slowed down enough that they could really talk. “Sometimes, especially recently, it’s been hard for me when we go out, because it feels like you don’t want me to pay for anything.”

“Oh.” Patrick knew what he was talking about. He just hadn’t realized he was offending him. 

“If we go to a bar, you grab the bill. When we went to that movie the other night, you were hurrying to get your card out first.” Richie was clearly pretty upset about it. “It’s embarrassing, like you think I’m a charity case or something.”

“No. Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Patrick put a hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I really thought I was just helping you out.”

“Well, I don’t need it, ok?” Richie told him. “You don’t have to take care of me anymore. I can get back on my feet on my own.”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded. “I know.”

“I mean, I wish I was making more money,” Richie admitted. “I’d be taking you on a romantic honeymoon right now, if I could.”

“I don’t need that,” Patrick was quick to assure him. 

“Yeah, but it’d be nice though, right?” Richie put an arm around his shoulders and they started walking again. 

Patrick reached into his pocket and took out his phone. 

“What are you looking up?” Richie asked, peering over his shoulder. 

Patrick typed in a few words and hit ‘search.’ “I’m trying to find a hotel for us to check into tonight – something affordable, preferably without any supernatural activity.”

“Ok,” Richie said cautiously. “As long as you let me split the bill with you.”

Patrick looked up from his phone and gave him a kiss. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”

Richie smiled at him, holding him close while they walked. 

“Just, promise me something,” Patrick said.

“What’s that?”

“If I ever do something like that again, just tell me I’m being annoying, ok?” Patrick grinned. “It’s not like I’ve never heard it before. I can take it.”

Richie laughed. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Good,” Patrick said. “Well, maybe not _all_ the annoying things – just this particular thing. Like, if we could talk more about this and less about how I adjust the thermostat…”

“You’re being annoying now,” Richie smirked. 

“Ah, see?” Patrick chuckled. “We’re doing better already.”

\--

It wasn’t exactly the Hilton, but they did manage to find a clean, inexpensive place to spend the night. While Richie signed into the guestbook, Patrick texted Dom to let him know that he would be dog sitting.

“Enjoy your stay,” the front desk clerk told them.

Patrick nudged Richie and whispered, “I think she’s alive. Cross your fingers.”

Richie laughed, putting down the pen he’d used to sign them in. Patrick glanced over his shoulder at what he’d written, in his familiar, messy handwriting. 

_Richie & Patrick Donado-Murray / 7-4-18_

He felt like his heart was going to burst from being so happy. Seeing their names linked together like that meant more than he’d ever thought it would.

“You ready?” Richie asked. 

“Yeah.” Patrick stole one last look at it before following Richie to the elevator. 

\--

“Oh, that’s good, Pato,” Richie groaned, gripping the bedspread.

Patrick squeezed his cheeks, holding them apart while he licked at his hole. He dragged his wet tongue around the rim before easing the tip inside. 

Richie’s body jerked and he swore under his breath, egging him on. “Fuck yeah, babe, like that…”

Patrick grinned, lowering his head again. He licked insistently, his tongue darting in and out of his ass while Richie writhed and pleaded for more. 

“Oh God, Pato. Please…” Richie gasped.

Patrick came up for air. “Fuck, I could get hard just listening to you,” he muttered, sitting back on his heels so he could stroke himself a few times.

Richie looked over his shoulder at him. “Goddamn,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

Patrick eyed him lustfully, his hand still working up and down the shaft of his cock. He fingered the head and a few droplets leaked out. 

“I want you,” Richie said softly. He stared hungrily at his body and swallowed hard.

“Yeah,” Patrick grunted, giving himself a firm pull. “I want you too.” 

“Get your ass over here then,” Richie demanded, sitting up on his elbows. 

Patrick grinned, crawling over and tackling him. He flipped Richie on to his back and they made out frantically, tongues plunging into each other’s mouths. “I like when you’re bossy in bed,” he giggled breathlessly.

Richie chuckled. “Oh yeah? You want me giving you orders?”

“Uh huh,” Patrick said, kissing him. “It’s so hot.”

Richie smirked. “Ok, if that’s how you want it.” He took him by surprise then, delivering a firm, open- palmed slap to his ass. “Fuck me. _Now_.”

Patrick’s eyes widened. His cheek stung from the contact and he felt a rush of his heat to his lower half. “Jesus,” he breathed. 

“Am I gonna have to repeat myself?” Richie asked.

“Um.” Patrick couldn’t form an answer. He was torn between wanting to fuck Richie and the possibility of not following directions and getting his ass spanked. It was like a sexual Sophie’s Choice. 

“Hey,” Richie said, his tone softening. “What’s wrong? Did it hurt?”

“ _No_ ,” Patrick responded quickly. “I fucking _loved_ it.”

Richie smiled, relieved. “Ok, so…”

“But, can we just, like, revisit the spanking thing later?” Patrick wondered. “Because that was _really_ hot and, honestly, I don’t know how we’ve been together for this long and we’re just now trying it. I mean, you’d think that we would have found all of each other’s kinks by this point…”

“Pato,” Richie interrupted him, a huge grin on his face. 

“I’m just saying,” Patrick concluded, “maybe it bodes well for our married sex life that we can still surprise each other.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Richie said, kissing him. “I think it’s always gonna be hot when it’s me and you together.”

Patrick smiled, trailing his fingers down his chest. “Well, yeah…just look at you.” His eyes swept over his gorgeous body, helping to settle his indecisiveness about what he wanted to do next. 

“You know, we _can_ do both,” Richie mused. “We’ve got the room for the whole night.”

“That’s a very good point,” Patrick grinned. He kissed him, giggling against his mouth. “You know what I really want to do now? It’s something that I’ve never tried before…”

“What’s that?” Richie asked.

“I’m gonna fuck my husband,” Patrick chuckled. 

Richie laughed, pulling him down to make out with him some more.

\--

Patrick moaned loudly, his eyelids drifting shut. He rolled his hips rhythmically, so deep inside of Richie. There was nothing separating them. It was all just skin and heat and sweat.

“Oh, fuck, Pato,” Richie panted underneath him. He was on his knees, clutching a pillow tightly against his chest. 

Patrick picked up the pace a little, fucking him harder. He felt so good around his cock, tight and perfect. It was always incredible, being with Richie. They were so connected that they could anticipate each other’s desires and know instinctively just what the other needed.

“Yesss,” Richie hissed. “Shit, yeah. Faster.”

Patrick grinned, loving that he could do this to him. He knew how to fuck him just right, giving him everything he wanted. “Like this?” he asked, driving into him with a greater intensity.

Richie groaned his approval, swearing and grunting intelligible words. 

Patrick could tell how close he was. His arm was wrapped around his waist, stroking his heavy cock. “C’mere,” he said, pulling him upward, into a sitting position. He wanted to be able to see Richie’s face when he came, watch his eyes go glassy and his jaw slack. 

“Love you,” Richie murmured, turning his head to meet him for a kiss. 

Patrick kissed him back, messy and breathless. “Love you too.” He looked in his eyes, pausing for a moment to let it sink in. This beautiful man was going to be his partner for the rest of his life. He felt a sense of peace wash over him before he started moving again. 

Richie whined, making the most delicious, needy sounds. After only a few more thrusts, he came hard, his thighs shaking and his mouth falling open. “Jesus. Oh shit. Oh fuck.” 

Patrick kissed him through it, his mouth on his shoulder and his throat. His fist was wrapped around Richie’s cock, sticky with his come, squeezing out every last drop. He could feel him clenching around him and it wasn’t long before he was gone too. 

\--

“Ok, we have to do this right. Let me feed it to you,” Patrick said, holding up a plastic fork with a bite of cake on the end. 

Richie smiled at him adoringly and gave in, opening his mouth. He took the bite and swallowed it. “Hmm, that’s really good.”

Patrick leaned back against the pillows, digging into the take-out box from the bakery. “Oh my God, it is. This is, like, the best way to end today – hot sex and then a sugar binge.”

Richie laughed, caressing the bare skin of his hip, where the sheet had fallen away. He reached over and grabbed another forkful. 

“We should take pictures,” Patrick said excitedly, reaching over to the nightstand for his phone. “We need some wedding cake selfies.”

“Now?” Richie asked, surprised. He glanced down at his naked body.

“Don’t worry,” Patrick grinned. “I’m not going to post these anywhere.”

“That’s good,” Richie said, reaching out to him, “Because you’ve kinda got sex hair, Pato.”

“I do?” Patrick giggled while he smoothed it down for him.

“Yeah, you look really hot,” Richie said, kissing his shoulder. 

Patrick decided to go ahead and take the selfie before things got too amorous again. He scooped up a bite of cake and fed it to Richie, holding up the phone with his other hand. 

“Did you get it?” Richie asked, licking the frosting off his fingers. 

“Yeah.” Patrick swiped through the photos on his phone. There were a lot of pictures from the wedding and the after party. Then there were some recent shots of Chiquita, modeling various dog outfits. “Oh.”

“What?” Richie asked.

Patrick had scrolled back too far in the photo gallery, to a picture from several months ago. He had his arms around Richie’s painfully thin frame and they were both smiling, but there was sadness in their eyes. “I don’t know how we got through that,” he admitted quietly. 

“I don’t either,” Richie said. “It was a really rough time.”

Patrick closed out the picture, not wanting to look at it anymore. That was the past and he would much rather be in the present. He leaned in, giving Richie a kiss. “I’m so fucking happy to be married to you,” he murmured.

“Me too,” Richie said. “I think it’s the best thing I've ever done.”

“Really?” Patrick smiled. 

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, kissing him again.

Patrick climbed into his lap, straddling his waist. Richie’s mouth and hands were all over him and he closed his eyes, sighing with pleasure. He rubbed up against him, giving their cocks some good friction. 

“What do you want to do?” Richie asked, his voice low and rough. 

Patrick only needed a minute to think it over. Without an explanation, he repositioned himself, moving so that he was lying sideways across Richie’s lap. He wiggled his ass a little bit, just to make sure he got the message. 

Richie chuckled. “It’s alright. I got you.”

Patrick took a deep breath, preparing himself. He was already feeling turned on and they hadn’t even done anything yet. 

Richie palmed his ass tenderly. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop, ok?”

“Yeah, I will,” Patrick promised. It was exciting and thrilling to be trying this with him. It took a lot of trust, but he knew there wasn’t anyone he felt safer with than Richie. 

“I’m gonna start now,” Richie warned. He was unfailingly sweet, even though what they were about to do was anything but. 

Patrick closed his eyes, bracing himself. A few seconds later, he felt the first hard smack from Richie’s hand. It jolted him, sending a shiver down his spine and a throbbing ache to his cock. “More,” he whispered, when he could finally form words again.

Richie kept going, delivering a vigorous spanking, while Patrick urged him on. When his ass was red and raw, he finally let up some, only slapping him lightly. 

“Oh my God,” Patrick panted, his face pressed against the bedspread. He was so hard. If Richie touched him one more time, he was likely to come all over himself.

“You’ve had enough,” Richie surmised. He leaned down and kissed his sore cheek. “You want me to finish you off?”

“No.” Patrick shifted over, so he was lying on his side. He grabbed the lube and tossed it to Richie. “Fuck me.”

Richie squirted some out into his hand, greasing up his fingers and his cock. He lay down beside Patrick, carefully parting his tender cheeks and working a finger inside. 

Patrick moaned, breathing heavily. He was so aroused from the spanking that he could barely think or speak. It was all too much, and just right, at the same time. 

Richie finally settled behind him, gripping his thigh while he sank inside of him. They moved together, grinding and rocking against each other. 

When Patrick came, there was a smile on his face.

\--

They held each other for a long time afterward, spooning under the hotel sheets. Patrick was falling asleep, but he still couldn’t stop talking. Richie struggled to stay awake with him. 

“Remember earlier, when you said you wished we could have a honeymoon?”

“Yeah,” Richie said.

“I’ve got Monday off, because of the holiday. Why don’t we take a road trip?” Patrick suggested.

Richie grinned. “Where do you want to go, Pato?”

“Um,” Patrick thought about it. “We could drive down to L.A., spend some time on a real beach…”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Richie snuggled against him.

“Then we could rub suntan lotion all over each other,” Patrick said dreamily, his eyes closing. “And I could see how hot you look in swim trunks.”

Richie laughed. “Maybe I’ll get you into a speedo.”

“Oh no,” Patrick chuckled. “That wouldn’t be a good look for me.”

Richie kissed his shoulder, hugging him close. “I like all your looks.”

“Mm-hm,” Patrick murmured. He was startled awake by a loud booming noise, coming from outside their window. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot about the fireworks.”

“I bet we can see them from here,” Richie said, sitting up. He got out of bed and walked over to the window, naked. 

Patrick followed him, grabbing a blanket to wrap around himself. 

Another explosion went off and they actually did have a pretty good view of it. They watched as the sky was streaked with a brilliant array of blue and red and yellow. 

Richie held him in his arms and Patrick cuddled against his chest, feeling blissfully content. He thought about how far they’d come to get to this place. They’d been through breakups and illness and family drama. If they could survive all of that, then marriage probably wouldn’t be so hard. 

“Here,” Patrick said, spreading out his blanket so it would wrap around both of them. 

Richie hugged him under their blanket cocoon, kissing his lips and telling him, again, how much he loved him. Patrick returned the kisses and eventually, the dazzling fireworks display outside their window faded into the background. 


End file.
